


Be happy

by rafaholic



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-25 00:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21108413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rafaholic/pseuds/rafaholic
Summary: A phone call the day after Rafa’s wedding.





	Be happy

Rafa's cell phone was keeping ringing for two days now, without interruption.  
There were many people who wanted to wish him the best for his wedding and it was physically impossible to answer them all.  
Messages accumulated on the screen.  
Rafa was lying on the bed, recovering from the terrible hangover remedied during the party.  
But after all he deserved it, didn't he?  
He was a married man.  
Such an event deserves to be celebrated in the best possible way.  
But of that ugly headache, perhaps he would have gladly done without.  
Mery had already returned to Porto Cristo, and was spending time with her friends whom she hadn't seen for a long time, obviously gathered for the big event.  
He had decided to recover from the after-effects of the party in his luxurious suite at Sa Fortalesa.  
He held the phone in his hand, playing to guess the sender of the following message which would arrive.  
Then the phone vibrated again, but this time to signal an incoming call.  
Rafa read the ID and froze.

Roger.  
He sighed and answered.

"Hola Roger"

"Rafa"

His voice sounded different than usual. Almost as if he didn't expect Rafa to answer his call.

"Hi"

A deafening silence fell between them. Neither of them was able to continue a conversation that perhaps they should not have started.

"Rafa um ... I ... just called for ... you know what? It doesn't matter, I'm sorry. Congratulations on the big step."

"Rog, wait ..."

Rafa stopped the Swiss before he could hang up. He knew that if he didn't talk with him he would spend the whole day wondering what and why Roger called him, even if in his heart, he already knew the answer.

"I am no busy now. I can speak. Why did you call?”

Roger seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if he were evaluating his options.  
Then he sighed and decided to be honest.  
After all, what did he have to lose?

"I just wanted to hear you ... yesterday I couldn't call you, it was a tough day."

"Media day in Basel?"

"Yes ... that too."

Rafa closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the bed, preparing himself for the inevitable next question.  
Or rather, to the answer he knew he was about to receive.

"That ‘too’?"

"Rafa ... I'm not going to make you feel bad or make you sad or ruin your day, but I felt that if I didn't call you I'd go crazy and ... God, I'm pathetic..."

Rafa smiled slightly, in spite of himself.

"It's okay, Rog."

"It is?"

"You’re the one who should tell me if it is..."

Roger just sighed deeply and forced himself to revive the mood of that conversation. Although his heart was burning in his chest, his intention was not to ruin such a happy day for Rafa. He had been sincere when he had said that the only reason for that phone call was that he really needed to hear his voice. Even for a second, even a moment. He had no second motives and yet everything seemed bigger than him at that moment.

"It's okay, but it will be even more ok if I win Basel. Thank God that marriage keeps you away from here, otherwise you would try to beat me even at my home”, he said, determined to make Rafa smile, and even trying to pretend a slight laugh.

Rafa looked relieved by Roger's sudden joke and smiled again, this time with a smile that reached his eyes.

"You can bet on it, I would make you sweat for that trophy. I'm not like the others who in Basel always make you win easy”, he joked.

"Objection your honor! The witness makes speculations.”

"Speculations? What is that word? If it's an insult... "

Roger's laugh interrupted Rafa, who felt his heart warm up just by listening to that sound he had almost forgotten.  
The Swiss could not recover from that thick series of laughter, as usual.  
When he started laughing, he could go on for hours.  
Rafa snorted, ironically.

"When you're done teasing me, you let me know ..."

"Sorry Raf, sometimes I forget that your English is pretty shit.”

"What? My english is no shitty. "

"No, Raf, you're right, it's just that, you know, Leo and Lenny speak it better than you, but it's not big deal," Roger continued, finding a lightness unknown to the recent conversations with the Spaniard.

"Of course, they are your children, and you are always perfect, so even the little Federers are perfect.", Rafa replied pretending to be annoyed.

"I was joking, Raf, your English has improved a lot."

"Yes."

"Now you speak it like Myla and Charlene, not like Leo and Lenny," he joked again.

"Imbécil ..."

Roger didn't speak Spanish but he knew enough to understand that this wasn't exactly a compliment.

"Did you just call me an idiot?"

"Who knows..."

"Really, not very elegant, Mr. Nadal."

"You started off by saying that my English is shitty. My english is not shitty. My English is amazing. "

"You are amazing."

Rafa immediately became serious and Roger tried with his whole being to feel guilty for those words, for having cooled the atmosphere between them again, but the truth is that he could not regret having said them, because that was what he thought. God knows how much.

“Roger ..."

"No, I know, ‘I don't have to, I can't, it's not right’, I know, by now I know it by heart. But Rafa, I want you to know it. For me, yesterday's event does not change things. I can't help ... ", he stopped. As if pronouncing those words would made his suffering more real than it already was.  
He sighed and spoke again, almost whispering now.  
"I can not pretend not to feel what I feel just because now you wear a ring on your finger. I have been wearing it for 10 years and yet this has never stopped me from loving you like crazy”.

Rafa shut his eyes so tight he hurt himself, trying in vain to stop the tears from falling.

"Roger, we decided together. We have decided for Mirka, for your children, for Mery ... "

"Yes, but for us? Do you ever think about us? Me and you? "

Rafa wanted to say that he didn't think of anything else. That the thought sometimes became so heavy, so burning, that it made it impossible for him even to breathe. That sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night, breathing heavily, shocked by the sudden awareness that he would never touch Roger’s hands again. Never touch his lips again. Caress his hair again. He would have liked to say that when they were together he had to appeal to all his willpower to not send everything to hell and kiss him in front of everyone.  
He wanted, so bad, but he didn´t.

"It's better for us too, Roger. You know it. ", he said instead.

"Don't talk for me, you can't know what's best for me!", the Swiss replied, trying unsuccessfully to contain a violent sob.

Rafa felt his heart break. He took a long breath and tried to keep control of himself, knowing he had to do it. God knows where this conversation would have led them if he had let his defenses collapse too.

"We're talking about nothing, Roger. I married the woman of my life, like you did ten years ago. Everything will be fine."

The Swiss let go several more sobs, then wiped his tears and composed himself, someway.

"Are you still there?", he asked, half expecting that Rafa had interrupted the call during the several minutes he had taken to recover.

"Sure."

"Im sorry, Raf. I've been selfish. I should have written you "congratulations", wish you the best. Shouldn’t have worried and made you sad.”

"It's okay, Rog," Rafa repeated, trying to convince himself more than Roger, who was now trying again to remedy his behavior, shifting the conversation to decidedly lighter subjects.

"Okay um ... then, I'll let you rest. Sorry again ... and I'll see you in London, guess? "

"Yes..."

"And work on your service, you don’t want to make things too easy for me when we meet in the final, do you?"

"How do you know we'll get to the final?"

"I don't know, but I hope so."

"Yes?"

"Sure. Like in the old days no?”

"Yes..."

"Only in the old days you always won, while now I'm much stronger, obviously."

"Oh yes?"

"What, are you doubting me? Watch out, Raf, then we enter the field and you regret it, don't tell I didn't warn you then, when ... "

"I love you, Rog."

Rafa spoke those words without realizing it. He had surprised himself by saying them, but he did nothing to remedy it. He smiled, knowing he had said nothing but the truth.

Roger sighed and started to answer but Rafa was quicker to speak again.

"Don't say anything, just ... I want you to know that I still think it's the best choice, you know, stay away from each other, dedicate ourselves to our wives, to our families as it should be. But nothing in the world will ever change my love for you, nothing. So please, when the feeling comes, when you feel that the distance is too much and it will happen, believe me, I live with this feeling for years now, when it happens you think about this. A part of me is yours and no one can take it away from you”, he concluded. The tears now ready to fall.

"Raf ... I love you too. I don’t know what to say, I ...”

"I have to go Rogi. Good luck in Basel. And please be happy .”

Rafa hung up before Roger could say more. Before the crying got the better of him. Before he could take each word back and ask him for one more meeting, one more night, one more life together. In spite of everything.

Roger stared at the screen of his phone, slowly returning black. Big tears wetting his cheeks.

"Be happy too, my love".


End file.
